Nice Guy
by Jayiin Mistaya
Summary: Buffy and Xander share a moment and Xander remembers why he hates being the nice guy.


**NICE GUY**

_A Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction vignette_

**BY  
JAYIIN MISTAYA**

After a final plan had been more or less agreed on, sleeping arrangements were agreed on through osmosis. By unspoken agreement, Willow and Tara faded upstairs to one of the spare rooms – they deserved at least a night together. Buffy and Angel borrowed the master bedroom to hash things out; earlier revelations had left them a lot to talk about. That left Faith and Xander sharing the guest room unless one of them took the couch.

Xander took the couch.It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

He flicked off the lone lamp, and sat back on the couch with a subdued groan.

He heard Faith make her way up the stairs, her bare feet barely making the stairs creak, but each step broke the deafening silence like a gunshot. He knew she was walking slowly and purposefully calling attention to herself, giving him a chance to reconsider.

But he knew better.

_Breathe, Xander, breathe. In with the air, out with the stress._

But deep breathing could only do so much. Rolling his tight neck and shoulders, he peeled off his boots and socks, wishing he had a change of clothes and about an hour for a long, hot shower.

_I could have both and I know it. All I would have to do is ask Deadboy to loan me some clothes and take a shower with just a door between me and Faith. I have self-control…but I don't know if I have that much self control. _

And there was no way he could swallow the rest of his pride and ask Angel for anything.

Even if he couldn't have a shower, a cup of tea would have been nice, but he'd been away too long; the kitchen Buffy kept looked nothing like the kitchen Joyce had kept.

_Whoa. I'm starting to turn into Giles. Maybe I'll take Wills up on her offer to stay in America this time._

Closing his eyes, he sank to the floor in front of the couch, letting his weight sink back into it, basking in the silent darkness. Quiet solitude had always been his sanctuary, but tonight, the solitude was empty.

And knowing the two couples were at opposite of the house...was a reminder of Faith's subtle offer.

Pushing himself up from the floor, he stripped off his shirt and threw it on the ground next to his boots.

He really wanted a cigarette just then.

_What the hell? It's probably cool outside, and I think I deserve it after what I just agreed to do._

Reaching for his jacket and the cigarettes comfortably nestled in the inside pocket brought him nothing but another sigh. _Wills still has my jacket. _

Shit.

_If Willow finds the fags, she's gonna zap me into next week._

He rolled his shoulders again, wishing some of the kinks would fade away like his headache was beginning to. Everything was sore.

_I'll blame it on Spike._

"You don't have to do this, you know."

Her voice came from behind him. He heard the door to the master bedroom shut behind her as she stepped softly into the room. He didn't turn around; he didn't want to see her, clad in silk, her silver-blonde hair and pale features highlighted by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains, bathing her delicate features in a silver spotlight.

And he knew if he looked into her eyes just once more, he would be lost there with no way out.

The cool, still air carried the light, intoxicating scent of her to him as she walked closer.

"No, I don't. But I am." His voice was quieter than the whisper he had tried for because his throat was closing up. "Who else can?"

_Please don't do this, Buffy. Not now. Please._

Her warm fingertips touched his bare shoulder, and a jolt of electricity ran down his back, knots of tension easing even as her touch created new ones.

"You have nothing to prove, Xander. You are not useless, or expendable."

He flinched away from her touch, tightly closing his eyes. "This isn't some macho ego thing. I can't not help."

_And I _am_ expendable; I'm the one who really has no part to play in this macabre script we seem to be acting out. This is all I have to offer beyond the occasional magic trick and a fast food run. _

"Bloody hell, Xander, why do you have to be so dammed noble?!" He cringed when he heard the tears in her eyes. "I know I hurt you. All the time, every time I do this, but I still care! You are the one person who knows, the only one...damn it, if they get you..."

He knew she was probably hugging herself.

Xander sucked in breath through clenched teeth, not bothering to fight his own tears. _I'm entitled, damn it!_

"If they get me, then you will do what you have to. Like always." He paused, realizing he was hunched over the couch, shrinking away from her and the threat of her touch.

Forcing himself to stand straight, he breathed deeply, regaining a measure of control before sitting down heavily. He still did not look at her.

_If they get me, they might not get you._

"But that's what this is about, isn't it? Ethan's playing some sick game that stems from your little secret, isn't he?"

Her small whimper was all the confirmation he needed. He almost smiled, knowing she had nodded just enough to hide her face behind her hair. Her whisper was as raspy as his had been.

"Please look at me. I need to see...to see you don't hate me."

He heard her swallow hard as he slowly turned until his eyes met hers, only holding onto himself by remembering her boyfriend and lover was in the next room over.

He had been right. She was beyond beautiful. Dressed in a gossamer sleeping shift leaving left her arms and midriff bare and a pair of silk shorts, she was a captivating fantasy he tried hard to look at and not see. Her pale skin and hair caught the dim light and collected it around her in an aura of shimmering shadows making made her seem even smaller and more vulnerable than what he had seen in his mind. Her blue-gray eyes searched his for something he didn't want to name because he was afraid he might be right.

She saw his tears and gasped. In the blink of an eye, she was beside him, her butterfly touches on his face caressing them away.

"I'm sorry..." Even as she spoke, her torso turned towards him as her legs slid away, as if she were trying to pull away and move closer at the same time. Her other hand caressed the scars on his shoulders, arms and; they had never made love, but she had dressed more than a few of his wounds. "I never wanted you to get hurt. I never meant for us to happen. And I never thought I would end up with him again. But this time it's prophecy, not love. You weren't supposed to have to fight...not this time."

Xander shrugged, trying to pull away. "That's me for you."

"You are so much more than that, but you don't ever let anyone see it, and I hate it. I hate that. You sell yourself short every time just so everyone else comes out on top."

Xander caught her hand in his, and pulled it away from his chest. "Yeah. But that's what I do. I make things easier so that the people who need to do the big stuff can." He smiled genuinely for the first time in days. "I like it that way." Taking her other hand away from his face, he scooted back. "And now that's said, you can go back to bed."

Hurt flickered through her soft eyes. "I...I could keep you company out here."

A cold anger swelled sang through him, a determined pressure pushing its way into his fatigue-befuddled brain. There was only one reason _she_ would ask to stay with him – if there was no one else for her to go to.

"Did he push you away? Ask you to find somewhere else to sleep?"

Weakly, she nodded, drawing back into herself. Sniffling, she tried hard not to cry as she choked out, "He said he can't trust me not to lie. That I cheated on you with him, and then I kept all this..." she gestured around the room, "from him."

Xander grit his teeth, not saying the obvious. _Deadboy, you left. If anyone betrayed anyone, you betrayed her. She made a choice, and now you've taken that away!_

Rubbing her arms, her eyes pleaded with him. "I can't tell them. Any of them. I can't. I can't bring them into this. As soon as they're safe, I need to move on. Keep looking. You understand, right?"

Her eyes were begging now. _Please...please, understand..._

In a single motion, Xander leaned forward and gathered her into his arms, holding her against him like a child.

"Yeah, I understand. You have to leave us all behind because of your dirty little secret. As if secret-agent man in there didn't know more than he's letting on. As if Angel, or Wills, or me didn't have a few secrets. Secrets are a part of this game we're playing, Buffy. Yours is bigger than most, so it hurts more."

Buffy found herself nuzzling into his chest, her cheek against his bare skin, breathing in the scent of leather and soap that was perfectly Xander. Angel always smelled like aftershave and electricity. _Why do all the good guys smell like soap?_

She stopped herself, holding herself perfectly still for the space between breaths.

_And when did I stop thinking of Angel as a good guy?_

Her hand came up to caress Xander's cheek again. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "I'm always here for you; you are still my friend, no matter what else."

_I won't lose what I have left of you; I won't let him take it away and I won't let you give it away._

Buffy flinched and pulled her hand away. Xander shrugged. "I'll find you some bedding for the couch. I'll sleep on the floor."

He laid her gently on the sofa as he stood, but her fingers tugged at his hand before he was able to go far. Her eyes locked with his as she sat up, pulling him closer by inches.

"Xander...why can't we do this just this once, just for tonight. We both need each other. We both need this."

He calmly noted she never specified what 'this' was. Even as he took a breath to speak, his mind rebelled. _Damn it, I'm entitled!_

But he knew better. _If this is love, I'm better off without it._

Prying his hand away, he smiled bitterly. "Because I'm a nice guy."

**End**


End file.
